The Little Miracles
by MatthewMarkLukeAndUs
Summary: Noir's Mental Institution is a world-renown, special mental-correctional facility. Founded by the best doctors and medical practitioners the universe has to offer, their sole purpose in life is to help the less-fortunate of mind before their own minds can be sullied. But will one prestigious doctor be influenced by the asylum's worst case yet? Can he be cured? Humanstuck GamKar AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hello! I've read plenty of Homestuck Fanfics and decided that it was about time for me to actually sit down and write one! This AU idea randomly came to me as I was stupidly hitting my head against the railing of a bunk bed so if it's crap, you know why. But I hope you enjoy it anyways!

~Hilda :)

* * *

"The patient in Room 413!" A nurse exclaimed hastily. "Doctor, he's hurting himself!"

The doctor to which the flustered nurse was speaking, looked up with wide eyes and concern creasing his forehead. He immediately arose from his seat and followed the panicked nurse out of his office and into the hallway.

He didn't need to rack his brain to remember who was in Room 413. He knew the patient all too well and because of this, he suspected something like this to happen soon enough. His patient was a strong one – a relentless one. He was not above killing himself in front of the entire staff, just to spite them. And that was a dangerous trait, indeed. Doctor Makara picked up the pace, walking ahead of the nurse that had alerted him to Mr. Vantas' _disruption_. The doctor was a couple heads taller than the nurse's slight form – one of his strides equaled three of hers. But the small fidgety nurse followed closely behind, right on his heels.

The room was only a few doors away but even from here, Doctor Makara could hear other nurses' pleads, suppressed yells, and the _thuds_. The _thuds_ were accompanied with stubborn grunts but with each _thud_, Doctor Makara's heart tightened. _Oh no…_

All but ramming through the white door, the sight that met the doctor's eyes made him gasp. It wasn't because all the furniture in the room had been turned over and stacked atop each other; it wasn't because said stacks of crisp, white and glossy furniture had been strategically placed around a sole chair in the farthest corner of the room like a makeshift fort, which kept the exasperated nurses away. It was because that on top of the chair, away from the doctor's grasp as he moved closer, stood his patient, Karkat Vantas, with his back to the medical staff, and with both hands on the wall on either side of his head.

_Thud_.

Karkat Vantas was banging his head against the wall – _hard_.

_Thud—CRACK._

Thin trails of blood ran down the wall to meet the floor. Doctor Makara could not see Karkat's face but he was sure it was also stained red. The doctor opened his mouth to say something but no words formed.

_Thud._

His heart stopped altogether. Doctor Makara wanted to cry.

"Karkat, please!" Nurses continually pleaded, trying to get over the fort of furniture that separated them. "Karkat, you're hurting yourself! Stop, Karkat! Kark– "

"IF YOU SAY MY NAME ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR I'LL–" Karkat interrupted himself by growling wildly. His fingers clawed against the wall, wishing he could claw through it – wishing he could escape. He trembled as a new, fresh wave of fury overcame him and unsure of what to threaten the stupid nurses with, he decided to take the anger out on himself. Again. _THUD._ Again. He hated himself. _THUD._ He hated that his tear-ducts betrayed him and that he was crying. _THUD._ He hated that it hurt _so badly_. He hate, _hate, HATED IT._

_THUDTHUDTHUDTH–_

Before his head could hit the wall again, he was falling. He was falling backwards but when he opened his eyes, all he saw was red.

He hated the color _red_.

Doctor Makara ignored his charge's flailing limbs as he grasped the smaller man tightly and cradled his body close. He barked at the nurses to clear a path for him as he felt Karkat's screams and protests weaken. Looking down at his face, Doctor Makara's gut twisted. It was painted the most brilliant color of red that had leaked from the gashes and cracks on his forehead. The corners of the doctor's eyes prickled with tears as he noticed Karkat's own tears mixing in with the blood on his face – still streaming down his cheeks even after blacking out.

But Karkat's stillness only fed the panic in the air. And panic, Doctor Makara did.

~/~

Doctor Makara ran a shaky hand through his hair as he sat outside the door of the small clinic on the sixth floor. He looked around the hallway – wide and bright with white tile flooring that gleamed and glistened under the intense fluorescent lights. The wall before him was white as well, save for the pale yellow trimmings and outlines that swirled across the wallpaper in barely noticeable and indiscernible shapes and patterns. The walls of Noir's Mental Institution weren't all the same – they differed slightly in color (from floor to floor and area to area) in a pattern only the doctors understood. For example, the white hallway walls on the second floor were lined and trimmed in a pale blue. Pale blue trimming and other cyan details said the patients housed in that particular wing on that particular floor were tame and accepting, nonviolent – and mostly older folk. If you travelled one story up, on the third floor, the white walls sported a dull lime green detailing, marking the floor on which mostly those who were not only mentally sick, but also _physically_ sick, resided. The first floor, however, was off-limits to patients unless they were outgoing or incoming, deeming the need to have a certain color scheme for the walls down there unnecessary. On the first floor, also, was the lobby, the doctors' offices, the staff locker-rooms and various lounges, and another small clinic. A lot of the medical staff lived right on the hospital campus, as well, in a different building a few acres away from the main hospital. Here at Noir's, the doctors tended to become very close to their patients, but it was not entirely recommended. Especially when befriending a patient on the fourth and fifth floor. Although it made Doctor Makara's heart sink whenever he heard it, he knew it was true: The patients on the fourth and fifth floors had no hope for recovery. Their causes were lost ones – as dull as the diluted lavender color that graced their hallway walls. The mere thought made the tall, lanky doctor gulp and shift uncomfortably in his plastic seat.

_There _had_ to be hope. _

Doctor Makara jumped up from his seat when a woman walked through the clinic door. He searched her face, desperate for an answer to the question he hadn't yet voiced. The woman closed the door behind her silently and then proceeded to absentmindedly flatten out the wrinkles in her skirt with her free hand. The other held a clipboard, which she skimmed over before looking up at the much taller doctor and giving him a soft smile.

"Don't worry yourself, Gamzee," She said reassuringly. "He didn't do any serious damage to himself, even if the stitches look a little scary. Nevertheless, we must increase his dosage of medication–"

Doctor Makara opened his mouth to interject but the woman quickly finished.

"–for his, and everyone's, sake." Her expression dared him to counter.

Instead, he just sighed. "I understand, Aradia, but I don't think he can _take_ any more fucking meds. It's cruel what we're doing to him."

"It's cruel what he's doing to _us_!" Aradia snapped, making Gamzee flinch. "He could have killed himself today! And nevermind him, think of our friends. The nurses today are probably scarred for life. Oh, didn't you hear about what that little devil did to Nurse Pyrope? He _blinded_ her! Saying that 'it was her destiny to be blind' and that 'she wasn't allowed to see'." Aradia scoffed. "It took not two but _three_ male nurses to hold him down so that I could sedate him. Vantas has no mercy, Gamzee."

Doctor Makara's jaw tightened. "You just don't understand him. It's a miracle how far he's made it, how much he's improved!"

She shook her head in disbelief. "I honestly don't know how you do it. How can you be in the same room with him for hours on end and emerge unscathed? Completely unharmed? How can you even stand his incessant yelling?" Her eyes closed and her mouth twisted in distaste remembering how loud and insufferable the deranged human was. It hurt her ears just thinking about it.

"I do just fine," Gamzee said plainly. He changed the subject. "How long until he's out of the clinic?"

Aradia sighed and handed her coworker the clipboard. "Until tomorrow. We must also see to clearing his room and putting it back together. Unless you allow us to give him a fresh, new room." She let Gamzee flip through the papers, knowing he was displeased with the whole situation. Once he got to the last page, Aradia stopped him and pointed at the blank line at the bottom of it. "Please, Gamzee, sign here to clear Karkat for his extra dosages."

Gamzee looked at her with a sad, small fire struggling to stay lit in his eyes.

"You're his doctor, his guide," She said softly. "It must be you who authorizes it."

He wanted to fight but deep down he knew Doctor Megido was right. Gamzee sighed again. "My doctor/patient visits with him will increase to four times a week, instead of two." He pulled out a pen and signed his name on the line. "Make it happen."

And without another word, nor another look in the eye, Doctor Makara handed Doctor Megido the clipboard and walked away.

~/~

Karkat opened his sore eyes to see golden sunshine flooding his room from the window. His room… It was not the same as his previous bedroom. The door was to the right, not to his left. The window was on the left too, which felt _wrong_. Even the nightstand was on the opposite side. Nothing was as it should have been. Karkat scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion and slight panic. _Nothing was the same_. He sat up abruptly and also realized that his right wrist was tied to the bed's side-railing. He gasped at the sight of the leather belt. _Oh no!_ He couldn't have been restraint! Yet… he was. Hesitantly, his left hand came over to touch the leather strap. Why was he…? The memory of what he had done yesterday _(was it yesterday?)_ surged back into his mind and he immediately felt terrible. Felt terrible for causing so much trouble, and for letting his anger get the better of him. His head felt terrible too. But Karkat knew that the pain was not as strong as it should have been. The nurses had probably doped him up with some morphine or something to help deal with the pain when he awoke. Knowing that he had been harassed and moved around while he was unconscious made him more uncomfortable than any kind of physical pain could have. But he was used to it. He stopped getting pissed off for being forcibly knocked out by the nurses a long time ago.

Karkat sighed and lied back down. Looking up, Karkat almost gagged in horror.

_Even the ceiling of this room was different_.

He turned over onto his side and buried his face into the unfamiliar pillow. A dry sob threatened to break through his chest. They had moved him into a different room. They had taken him out of his comfort zone – nothing in this space was familiar. Everything was foreign, grey, and uninviting.

Karkat gulped; he knew what this meant. If they didn't trust him before, they certainly didn't trust him now. And _trust_ was a very difficult thing to gain here. Especially from the nurses and… his doctor. Karkat's eyes widened against his pillow as his entire body tensed. _Doctor Makara!_ How was he _ever_ going to get Doctor Makara to trust him now? Doctor Makara was the only person who ever showed Karkat genuine care and concern! The only person who _wanted_ to help him! _The only person that even seemed to _believe_ him._ But now, after what Karkat had done… He had ruined everything. Karkat screamed into his pillow, gripping at the ends of it with his fists and thrashing around in his bed. He hated himself.

_How could he have been so stupid?_

It wasn't long before his screaming had turned into crying, and his thrashing into trembling.

_Why did he have to be so terrible?_

* * *

__**A/N**: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AND I HOPE YOU CRIED. Well no you didn't have to cry but I hope you're intrigued! Please leave reviews!

Suggestions would be much obliged because the way I left this idea so open, leaves room for many many plot twists and essentially, because I don't have a definitive plot idea idea yet, this story could go anywhere. So, suggest away! (Although, I need GamKar to happen eventually but I'm not sure if I want it to be pale or red yet O_O"...guess we'll have to see!) Critique is good too! Thanks!

I'll hopefully update soon3

~Hilda :)


	2. Chapter 2

YAY! Second chapter! FINALLY! WOOT. EXCITEMENT. Have fun reading! Hope you like it!

~Hilda :)

* * *

Blue. All he saw were shades of blues and light hints of grey and green. But mostly blue flowed and swirled around his form randomly, aimlessly. It felt cold against his skin but he, in turn, felt weightless. There was no solid ground beneath his feet but as he looked down, about 10 feet below, he noticed a sandy ocean floor. _I'm underwater_, Karkat Vantas thought. He was able to breathe, the sudden panic of not being able to disappearing from his mind as quickly as it came. He physically relaxed, his body unnoticeably sinking only a few inches with the movement. It was so serene, floating amongst the random surreal strips of seaweed and tiny particles of sea-dust. There was no sound – maybe the comfortably heavy hum of still waves, but silence over all. The nothingness of this rare, beautiful dream rocked Karkat's teeming mind to sleep. A peaceful dream like this one hadn't graced his head in months. He had gotten so used to the harsh, loud, and disturbing nightterrors that had awaited him each night when his eyelids began to droop before making themselves known, that he had almost forgotten how greatly _needed_ a break from them was. But Karkat's serenity was broken by the sound of a childish giggle piercing through the silent waters. His eyes snapped open, knowing how untrustworthy a simple _giggle_ could be when in his dreams.

Ahead, a little ways away, a figure swam towards him. He immediately thought of the biggest of vicious sea creatures that could be on its way to cull him when he heard the short bout of laughter echo towards him once more. The giggles were coming from… the creature? He squinted his eyes for a closer look, the creature swimming faster. Upon inspection, the creature was humanoid – arms, legs, even a human-esque face. A razor-sharp smile wide upon its jaw. It swam to him but stopped a few yards away. The "creature" tilted its head.

_It was a girl!_

Fins covered where her ears should have been, behind which long, flowing, glossy black hair had been pushed back. Her hair could have easily reached down to the backs of her knees but as she floated, her hair billowed out behind her like a dark cape, desperate to swim as freely as she did. The backs of her calves and forearms, had small, pink-tinted fins as well. She kicked her legs a little in the water, to make sure she didn't sink. She winked a brilliant pink eye at Karkat and giggled once more, reminding him of what sonar probably sounded like. An abundance of golden jewelry adorned her wrists and neck – shimmering as she swayed against the underwater currents. Karkat gawked with his mouth opened wide. _She was beautiful…_ Save for her skin – a glossy and sandy grey toned pigment it was. And… her _head_. Protruding from either side of the crown of her head, were horns. Horns as tall as the length of Karkat's whole arm and as regal and as sharp as the tips of the golden trident she wielded. Her horns colored various shades of orange and yellow. Karkat's eyes widened. He knew _exactly_ what she was. The girl before him was a troll. A kind of _sea_-troll but a troll all the same.

It looks like his nightterrors hadn't abandoned him after all. Karkat awoke when she had pointed the golden trident at his chest and grinned.

He awoke, dripping with sweat. _Or was it really seawater?_

Because Karkat wasn't sure, he began to cry. His hushed sobs broke through the darkness of the room before he realized that it was only dark because he hadn't yet opened his eyes.

Doctor Makara watched Karkat come to, from the foot of his bed, sitting on a chair. Doctor Makara's eyes were sad. He hated seeing his patient cry upon waking.

When Karkat saw him there, he didn't know if he should have been scared or happy. He chose the latter and quickly sat up, wiping away his unnecessary tears with his free hand. "D-Doctor," Karkat stuttered. "I-I'm so–"

"There's no need to apologize, Karkat," the young doctor assured him, slightly leaning forward in his seat. He looked startled himself – maybe even a little bit too eager.

Karkat shifted awkwardly on the bed, sniffling and feeling really, exponentially stupid. _Why the fuck am I crying, anyway?_

After a pause, Doctor Makara spoke again. "Why don't you tell me about the dream you just had instead?"

_'Instead,' _Karkat mentally noted; his breath catching in his throat. _But…?_ He was confused as to why the doctor didn't ask about… the other day. _Instead._ _Hmph._ He suddenly became very well aware of the cool leather binding around his wrist that kept him tethered to the bed. He slightly shook his head, trying to jostle the memory of "the other day" from his mind.

_The dream. Focus on the dream._ Like that was any better.

Looking up at Doctor Makara through his lashes, he almost looked _worried_. "I…" His voice was small. "It was about another _alien_."

The doctor nodded at him, not in a way that hurriedly urged him to continue but, understandingly, as if he knew exactly what Karkat was talking about. As if he had seen it too. Gamzee noticed as Karkat began to shiver but didn't point it out. Talking about the _aliens_ always did make him nervous.

This was Karkat's "ailment". Karkat was clinically delusional – he claimed to have these _visions_ in the form of dreams and, sometimes, "psychic episodes" that showed him a world, different from the Earth they knew, in a universe, created by means of an alien bioscience. This world was inhabited by a species much different than humans – a species that _hatched_ and that did not advance unless it was to jump from outlying universe to universe in hopes of expanding their mock-civilization; a civilization dominated by a social hierarchy that involved this biological system called a "hemospectrum". Karkat was convinced of this – convinced that he and that the other humans all around him should _not_, in fact, be human, but instead, these _aliens_ that he called "trolls". Karkat was convinced that he should be a troll, yet… the prospect of him being a troll scared him. He spoke of his own blood color not being a social norm according to the "hemospectrum" on this planet – he said that his blood color made him an outcast. A mutant. And mutantblooded children that lived to adulthood, would be culled soon enough – simply for having such an abhorrently shameful blood color. Karkat thought he was going to be killed for the red blood that flowed through his veins – even as a human. He had told Gamzee, in confidence, that he hated how _subordinate_ and _ugly_ he felt because of it. But yes. Karkat, in fact, was convinced that at some point soon, he'd "kick the bucket" and end up with a tag on his toe. He would constantly be looking over his shoulder, even while here in the hospital. While even _here_, alone in a small room, with only his most trusted psychological doctor. _Paranoid schizophrenic, _Gamzee thought to himself.

"But, she was different!" Karkat continued. "She was underwater and–"

"'She'?" Gamzee interrupted. He made the pronoun a point because Karkat had never given the _aliens_ any kind of title other than "it" and "the alien". Suddenly referring to one he had seen in a dream as a "she" changed things. Doctor Makara knitted his eyebrows together thoughtfully. Was Karkat humanizing them? "This troll was a _she_?"

Karkat looked like a deer caught in headlights – a light blush coloring his pale cheeks. Doctor Makara couldn't help the sudden hitch in his breath at the sight.

"Y-yeah. It was."

"I didn't know they were of different genders," Gamzee said carefully. He had noted Karkat's switch to using the pronoun "it" again. _"She" was a slip up._

Karkat looked down – the sudden lack of eye contact making Gamzee internally panic, which confused him even more. _Why panic?_

The room was then silent – Gamzee didn't dare to break it. He took advantage of the fact that Karkat wasn't looking to close his own eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink. It helped soothe his unusually _loud_ mind. Doctor Makara felt… _off_ today. The overwhelming sound of blood rushing filled his ears and it dizzied him. He felt engulfed by all the sudden noise in his head. As he battled against it, the weight of a pill bottle in his lab coat's pocket felt unbearably heavy. The noise in his mind somewhat muffled and there was a new voice – the illegally altered drugs in his pocket were calling out to him. He tensed in his seat. It was all Gamzee could do to _not_ reach for a pills mouth first…

"Do you ever feel… uncertain, Doctor Makara?"

Gamzee's eyes snapped open to see Karkat staring at him intensely. "Can't say that I have, Karkat," he lied effortlessly, tilting his head a bit to one side to better execute a believable expression. Doctor Makara was, in fact, uncertain about a lot of things. The patient said nothing – his expression stoic, unreadable, and all too familiar. Not many people could have mastered such a look unless they had learned it from the best.

_Maybe Karkat needed a friend to visit…_ Gamzee made a mental note of giving the very creator of irony and stoicism a call soon. But he'd think more of it later. Back to cracking down on Karkat's insecurities and breaking down his walls. Of course, only silently scrutinizing his face and picking up on all the important, nonexistent hints his light brown eyes sparkled with, Gamzee failed miserably.

But suddenly, emotion flooded back into Karkat's once blank face – and a _flood_ is too humble of a word.

"Why can't _I_ ask _you_ questions? Why can't I ask you if you even remotely believe me or if you truly, genuinely think that I'm just some crazy fuckass going on and on about _aliens_?!" His sudden loudness startled Gamzee but he would be fighting a chuckle soon enough. "Wouldn't you get a better _read_ on me and my progress if _I_ were the one to ask _you_ the questions? Wouldn't you–"

"Do you really think I would?" Gamzee interjected curiously. "Get a better read that way?"

Karkat nodded vigorously – his eyebrows still scrunched together with misdirected anger. Doctor Makara smiled, "Alright then. Ask me a question."

"Where are you from?" Karkat replied and Gamzee's smile dropped almost immediately.

"Karkat, these questions are supposed to be about _you_ or are, at least, supposed to help me diagnose your progress so far," the doctor spoke as if it were a five year old that was pouting glumly on the bed.

"Who was your patient before me?" Karkat continued, as if he hadn't heard his doctor at all. Gamzee just sighed.

"That's not your business, Karkat."

"But it refers to me, somewhat, and that was the deal!"

"Karkat." Gamzee lowered his voice to almost a rumble and said, as seriously as possible, "That's confidential information."

Karkat didn't miss a beat. "If I'm here being forced to be confidential with _you_, then why can't you fucking return the favor so that it doesn't feel as goddamn one-sided as it is?!"

Doctor Makara was silent for long time. Thinking. Would answering his personal questions really help Karkat mentally? Maybe, because, he's been "alone" for so long here in this less-than-homey-hospital, this kind of normal human conversation could be beneficial to him. Maybe he didn't need a _doctor_; maybe Karkat needed a _friend_.

And who better suited for the task than Gamzee Makara?

He watched Karkat's hands tighten into fists and then relax, and then tense again – he wondered if _Karkat_ wondered what he was thinking. He wondered if Karkat knew just how enjoyable coming to speak to him was. _How interesting it would be just to study him closely, day-in and day-out…_ The sudden thought scared Gamzee. What was he thinking?

"My family is from South Africa," Gamzee said, quietly, as if he were afraid the other doctors and nurses that passed by the room could hear. "My granddad was a Member of Parliament and my father owned a few, rather large, corporate businesses – I left when I was 15."

Karkat analyzed and absorbed every single word. It was all so new – information he never thought he'd receive, and much less deserve. Surely if Doctor Makara was trusting him back in this way, Karkat must have been doing something right. Right? The corners of his mouth threatened to lift up into the smallest of smiles. Karkat Vantas was excited.

"Do you have any siblings?" Karkat said, trying not to the let the enthusiasm leak through his teeth as it did.

Gamzee opened his mouth to reply, as if by extinct, but he stopped himself. _Kurloz_. Should he mention him at all? He closed his mouth and after a couple seconds, he reopened it. "I had an older brother, yes."

"So do I," Karkat said without thinking. "But, I'm sure you already knew that."

Gamzee smirked half-heartedly, "Yes, I know you have an older brother. Kankri, was it?"

"Yeah, but whatever, he's not important," Karkat rolled his eyes. He hated dwelling on someone as _uninteresting_ as his _brother_.

"Why not?" Doctor Makara couldn't help but ask. And the patient made a face.

"Don't _doctor_ me! I'M THE ONE ASKING THE QUESTIONS HERE!"

Gamzee held up his hands in defense to Karkat's sudden screeching. "Alright, alright. Take it easy…" He laughed when he heard the little madman grumbling under his breath.

They continued like this. Karkat Vantas, for the first time, being the one to ask the questions while Gamzee Makara, answered them – albeit a bit reluctant to let someone else know so much. He didn't remember the last time someone had taken the time to ask him about his life. Because really, who seemed to care?

Surprisingly, Karkat was a really good listener. He sat on his bed leaning forward (as far as his leather binding would let him) and staring intensely – nodding for his doctor to continue, when appropriate. He seemed really interested in what Gamzee had to say. Especially when Gamzee told him about his hobbies outside of the hospital. He lived in his own home about 15 miles away, nearer to the city than the hospital was, but still on the outside of its suburbs. He lived alone – he wasn't married, nor was he seeing anyone. He blamed it on the fact that he was waiting for the right person. He was an artist – he liked to paint at home. But the painting was more of a therapeutic remedy than it was a pastime. Karkat had asked him _why_ but that was one of the questions Gamzee dodged and refused to answer.

Soon, their time together was up and Doctor Makara stood up to leave. Karkat wanted to stop him – he didn't want to be alone again – but he bit his tongue and watched his doctor walk to the door. Just before he opened it though, Gamzee stopped with a hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder at Karkat. "I'll see to removing the strap on your wrist by tomorrow," he said with a small, unnoticeable smile.

When the doctor disappeared and the door locked with a loud _click_, Karkat curled up into a small ball and didn't close his eyes for what seemed like hours. He didn't feel like himself – he felt kind of… Light headed? Empty? He didn't know the right word – he didn't know how to explain it. But luckily, the author does. This was a whole new experience.

Karkat felt strange because, during the last few hours of speaking with Gamzee, not being _interrogated_ but actually _conversing_, he had felt _normal_.

~/~

Gamzee Makara sat in the middle of the floor of the makeshift studio, surrounded by cans of illicit paint, brushes, and other unconventional materials. Gamzee was hunched over and dripping with paint. He looked at his hands in his lap, which were colored a glossy crimson all the way up to his elbows – his mind felt too numb to register the fact that it was, of course, _just_ _paint_. But in his mind's eye, he saw blood running down his arms and choked. Looking up, he saw the result of his _therapeutic remedy_ splattered all across the four walls of the room in handprints, smeared lines, crude patterns and surreal designs doused in various shades of carmine – of _red_. Mouth agape and eyes wide with terror, Gamzee's body jumped into blind action – into blind panic. Tripping over random objects and cans of materials as he ran out of the "bloody" room and into the hallway. _Where was the bathroom?!_

He needed to clean his hands. _Why was there blood on his hands?!_ And then, he'd need to clean the room. Yes. There was evidence in the room – his fingerprints were _everywhere._

Gamzee threw up into the toilet in the bathroom, falling to his knees and retching loudly. He desperately tried to remember everything – _anything_ – but nothing came to mind. It was all darkness. _WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON?!_

Standing and immediately swaying unbalanced and dangerously, he shakily turned the tap at the sink and scrubbed his hands with as much antibacterial soap he could muster. He didn't look into the mirror – it was too soon for that. He was afraid of what he'd see.

_But why was he so scared?_ Good question.

His eyes blurred in his haste and before he knew it, his vision was darkening over. _No… NO! HIS HANDS STILL WEREN'T CLEAN!_ _He couldn't sleep, he couldn't…_

His breathing became shallow but he couldn't hear it because it was too dark. _But that didn't make sense?_ His mind shut off anyways and he unwilling drifted into unconsciousness.

The next time he opened his eyes, morning sunshine shone through his window and he was in his bed. Confused, he looked at his hands and they were clean. And upon further inspection, his studio walls (which was just an extra bedroom that he used to paint in) were bare, white, and spotless. No sign of red anywhere. Even the cans of paints, brushes, newspapers and other materials that once littered the floor, were stacked neatly in a small pile in the farthest corner of the room. The floor was clean. Pristine.

Even though he couldn't control the quickening rhythm of his heart, he still thought to himself: _It must have just been a dream._

And with that, he quickly locked the door to his studio and rushed into his bedroom to get ready for work.

He was late.

* * *

OOOoooOooO MyStErIeS. Yeah. Okay, please review! As always, criticism is much obliged and so are SUGGESTIONS! Plot-line's still really open for many'a twist and turn but as I write each chapter, I get closer and closer to a definitive future for this fic. So, the time for Suggestions and Ideas is NOW. Hit me up.

Alright, I hoped you liked it! I'll to update as soon as I can (just got back to school and that's annoyingly in the way so, be patient, por favor).

Yes. Love you. Review.

~Hilda :)


	3. Chapter 3

HEY. LOOK. I UPDATED. Bring on the fanfares. If you're even reading, sorry it's been a while. I've been working on other projects and school is annoyingly in the way and HEY LOOK IM DYING OF SICKNESS *coughs all over keyboard* but that's okay. Here is a chapter. Enjoy! or whatever.

-Hilda ;*

* * *

While there are many dynamics and angles to the otherwise-known-as _strictly professional relationship_ between Gamzee Makara and Karkat Vantas that you are all just _dying_ to read about, there are many other stories and relationships here at Noir's that we should discuss.

Let's start off, though, with the tall, young man that has just walked through the main double doors of the hospital. Not a day over 25, the man with a strong jaw and regal nose strode inside and shivered into the dark purple scarf that was wrapped around his neck, still chilled by the cold that bit at his sharp cheekbones outside. He approached the reception desk whilst removing his gloves and unbuttoning his jacket – settling in comfortably to the warmth inside.

"May I help you?" The abundant woman behind the desk and ajar sliding glass window asked politely.

"Yes," the man replied with a strange accent and a perfect grin. "I'm here to visit Mrs. Ampora, my wife. Here's my ID."

Being through this more than once, he knew the routine. Hand the receptionist (which was always a different woman) his ID, wait for her to check the validity of his statement in the computer, have them call for help because the computer had suddenly stopped _working_, check his watch and tap his foot impatiently until, _finally_, they gave him a visitor's pass and called for a security guard to escort him to where his wife would be waiting to see him. It was dull, in his opinion, but very well worth it to see his gorgeous wife's smiling face.

Mr. Ampora was led down the same maze of narrow corridors and wide hallways as he always was. He tried to memorize the way every time but failed. A couple twists and turns later, the handsome young man with a suave haircut was escorted into an open common-area-type-lounge that had rows upon rows of simple blue tables and white metal chairs. He scanned the sea of blue and white looking for the one person he came to see.

He spotted her in the very back of the room, sitting on a chair that had been pulled up against a window. She sat gracefully, with her long legs crossed, and her tall back leaning slightly forward, as her elbows were perched on the windowsill and her chin rested in the palms of her hands.

He tried his best not to sprint to her – he allowed himself a brisk walk between the tables instead. Mesmerized by the faraway look his wife's eyes held as they looked outside, Mr. Ampora barely acknowledged the big, built nurse that stood by his slender wife's form. He was only a few inches taller than Mr. Ampora but by the way he stood with his feet apart, wide arms behind his back, and a stone-hard chest that barely moved with his breathing, Mr. Ampora could tell that this man would have no problem picking him up and throwing him out the pretty window, as if he were but a ragdoll. _So, no funny business_, he thought to himself as he approached them. The nurse narrowed his eyes at the visitor with the square glasses. The latter paused a few yards away from the nurse and his patient.

"Fef…?" Eridan called tentatively. He was shaking.

The woman's attention was pulled away from the view and was instead greeted by the visitor's light brown irises. The woman's once dulled, lifeless expression morphed drastically. The sea-green color in her eyes came to life as her mouth immediately spread into a smile, bigger than Mr. Ampora had ever remembered seeing. His heart beat a little faster at the mere sight of her beautiful face – he felt his own face grow a little warmer too.

"ERIDAN!" The woman jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around the man, burying her face into his chest. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, easily enveloping her. Feeling her against him for the first time in 3 _excruciatingly long _months, relief crashed through him like a tidal wave, taking his breath away.

"Oh Feferi…" He said absolved, bowing his head and hiding his face in her soft, dark hair. They did not move – they embraced like this for a long time, relishing in the simple comfort of feeling the other's heart beat. But the white bliss that muted Mr. Ampora's mind in those moments was interrupted.

"I missed you, Eridan…" He heard the woman murmur against his body suddenly. Her voice was small – sad. Guilty, he only hugged her tighter. He had prolonged this meeting for far too long and the only reason why he came today at all, was because the guilt had eaten away at him to such a degree, that he felt that if he ignored her any longer, he'd end up in a hospital just like her. _Might as well come willingly. And see her. _

Holding her again, touching her, looking at her – he mentally kicked himself for ever even _contemplating_ to avoid her. He was a lying bastard if he thought he could live without her. She meant everything to him. Eridan nuzzled her neck and whimpered, "I love you so much, Fef–"

"Okay, break it up," The nurse interrupted, audaciously stepping forward to grasp Feferi's shoulder. Eridan widened his eyes and when he moved to snap up in protest, Feferi quickly untangled herself from her husband's arms and obediently followed the nurse's meaty hand's guide, stepping away from the visitor. The look in her eyes told Eridan not to fight. They had to listen to the nurse. _After all, it was for the visitor's own safety. _

Clenching and then unclenching his fists, he looked up at the nurse instead. "We do apologize," he said tightly. "But as you know, it _has_ been a while..."

Eridan saw Feferi's mouth twitch slightly from the corner of his eye.

"We understand, Mr. Ampora," the nurse replied with mock-concern and then an emotionless stare. Deducing that the nurse really had nothing else to say, and _needing _to detach his hand from Feferi's shoulders, Eridan offered Feferi his hand, (and the slightest princely bow-at-the-waist), with a smile that softened his eyes.

"Sitting in here will make me itchy," he said to her alone. "How about you and I go for a walk?"

Her face lit up like the Fourth of July. Looking over her shoulder at the nurse, she pouted. "Could we, Cal? Could we? PLEASE?!" She pleaded, all but jumping up and down. Her excitement made Eridan chuckle as he _dared_ the nurse to deny his wife with an unconventional grin and narrow-eyed stare.

They were allowed to walk the grounds with supervision trailing closely behind. There was a small scenic park and trail behind the main hospital building that had marble fountains, benches, and stone-paved pathways. Eridan had given Feferi his jacket and his scarf (tucking it up high against her neck so that she wasn't as cold).

Walking along a worn trail, Feferi held onto Eridan's hand tightly – she was also shaking but Eridan thought it was just against the chilled wind. He spoke to her about his week, telling her about his new job and about how the renovations on their home were coming along. "I brought a few pictures of the progress so far," he remembered. "If you'd like to see them?" She did.

Sitting on one of the benches in front a large fountain that sprayed water up in several different directions, Eridan pulled out an envelope he had folded up in his pocket and showed her the snapshots. He watched her face – but she wasn't really focused on the pictures in his hand. Instead, she kept glancing up at the marble fountain in front of them. At first, he thought the sound of the running water made her anxious. But when Eridan said nothing, her head turned away completely and her eyes were fixed permanently upon the clear blue water that sprayed out from the top and fell down into the shallow pool below. The meaning behind her simple gaze clicked in Eridan's mind and his eyes widened.

_Shit,_ Eridan thought, panicked. He had picked a rather _terrible_ area to sit down.

He glanced around for the nurse but he was nowhere to be seen. Huffing slightly, Eridan looked back towards his wife and nudged her shoulder a bit for her attention. "Do the pictures look good, Fef?"

She did not acknowledge him. "Hm," was all he received but he didn't think she even heard him. She no longer seemed to care.

Eridan knew that coming here would be pointless – just another stab in the heart.

He sighed, stuffing the photographs back into his pocket and then merely stared at her profile with the hint of despair in his eyes. _Things will never be the same_, _will they?_ Ever since that day two years ago, Feferi was never the same. Even if Eridan tried to make things as normal as possible by coming to visit her as much as he could, she was never going to be herself again._ She'll never look at me the way she looked at that fountain_, he thought wistfully. Jolting with a start, he forcibly took one of her hands in both of his and squeezed. "Feferi, look at me," he demanded, louder than necessary but loud enough to make her jump and turn to him in slight alarm. _There was no love in her eyes._ "Do you know my name?" He asked – his eyes bright with sudden intensity. It frightened the woman beside him.

"Yes–" She squeaked but did not finish her thought.

"What is it?"

Her brow furrowed suddenly and some recognition lit up her once dulled green eyes. Coming back to life and roughly pulling her hand out of the man's grasp, she said, "Mr. Ampora, do not _touch_ me!" She arose from the bench and made her way towards the fountain with a pompous gait. "If you cannot control such _lewd_ desires, and wish to court me, you'll have to take it up with my mother." Sitting on the edge of the fountain, she swung her feet over and dived down into the shallow pool of icy water – headfirst.

"Feferi!" Eridan reached the edge of the pool to see his wife's body motionless just underneath the surface… and amorphous trails of red beginning to taint the water. _Oh no…_

~/~

Eridan Ampora sat with his head in his hands, just outside of the door to the small clinic on the first floor. He knew coming to see his wife would be a huge mistake. He _knew_ he'd regret it. And he also knew that it would only make things worse. This afternoon in the park was proof enough – Feferi only _really_ caused those scenes whenever Eridan was around – she'd constantly try to kill herself indirectly. However, the nurses had told him before they had gone on their walk today that his wife had been improving drastically over the course of the last few months, but they didn't say how or why. Although, Eridan knew; _it was because he hadn't _visited_ her in those last few months._

This whole fiasco did nothing to quell Eridan's doubts on whether or not Feferi loved him. He had doubted it ever since their wedding day. And even more so, on the day Feferi tried to drown him. But, back then, he wasn't too concerned about their emotional, relationship status – he was far more worried about Feferi's questionably 'stable' mentality or if she was sane at all. Clearly, given the setting of the situation Eridan is currently in, she wasn't.

Mr. Ampora's jaw clenched as his hands tightened around his hair and pulled slightly, breathing in sharply through his nose. He also couldn't shake the feeling of guilt coursing through his entire body. _Maybe if I had been kinder…? Funnier…? _Silly Ampora, it isn't your fault. But he had yet to realize that. He was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Self-doubt.

The door to the clinic suddenly opened, making the flustered man jump up from his seat. He smoothly played it off as simply standing to greet the disgruntled female doctor and stared at her expectantly.

"Ampora?" She questioned, looking up at him over the rim of her glasses.

After giving a curt nod, he moved his chapped lips to speak but was interrupted.

"I'm afraid your presence here is no longer required. We kindly ask you to leave now until further notice… Yes, the hospital will notify you when your presence is again required and or appropriate." She shoved a clipboard of papers into his hands and demanded his signature on almost every inch. His stomach dropped.

"E-ex-excuse me?" He replied, dumbfounded. _W-what?_

"It seems your visits have been deemed catastrophic to patient, uh,–" she glanced down to her own clipboard to retrieve the name "–Feferi Peixes, and her recovery. So, we kindly ask you to be on your way now." _Oh no, kind, kind lady, no need to repeat yourself. Eridan _heard_ you – he just didn't _believe_ you._

_Just… WHAT?!_ Eridan could not believe… not _fathom_ what he was hearing. They were basically telling him to 'GTFO' and… He was angry. He did _not_ need this right now. He tried to take a breath to steady his trembling arms but – _fuck breathing_. His hands visibly tightened once more, this time almost snapping the clipboard he held in half. "_Ampora_," he seethed.

The doctor blinked, unintelligibly. "What?"

"Her _name_," he hissed through his teeth, no longer caring enough to hide his discontentment – "is Feferi _Ampora_." And with that, the regal-looking man with an ugly sneer on his face dropped the clipboard onto the metal chair he once sat on, turned on his heel, and left the hospital, completely and totally ignoring the shouts and yells of protest from the doctor and her nurses.

If they wanted him to leave so badly, they shouldn't worry because he was _gone_.

~/~

A male nurse about four times the size of Karkat wheeled the smaller, irate man down the hallway. The name of this friendly-giant-of-a-nurse escaped Karkat but he was pretty sure it was something strange. Everyone here had strange names, in Karkat's opinion. _Strange names for strange fucking people_, he thought.

He huffed out a shallow breath of air before breathing in a deep gulp of it – it was at least some _sort_ of fresh air. It felt like he hadn't left his room in _months_, so being out of his stuffy 'cell', he felt liberated. Even if this liberation entailed being confined to a wheelchair that a big, burly man-nurse had to push around. He was assigned to Karkat fulltime, or, whenever Karkat was allowed to leave his room.

Come to think of it, Karkat wasn't sure _where_ they were going. He was too busy breathing in the unfamiliar scent of the sterile hallways to notice, or even ask. But up ahead, there was an open doorway. Were they going to enter the room? No. The nurse made no indication of slowing. They were just rolling by. Passing it, Karkat glanced inside curiously but what he saw made him regret being _curious_.

Inside, sat a woman with her back to the doorframe. She sat tall with a waterfall of flowing, glossy black hair that draped over the back of the chair, hiding it, and curled upwards instead of reaching the floor. Karkat recognized that hair that glistened with its own light – the hair of a _monster_ he had seen under the sea. In a dream. The monster that didn't look familiar - the monster that he found the strangest of all.

_Oh no._ _The monster was real_. The only difference between the woman in the room and the monster in his dream was that, in place of horns protruding out from her skull, white hospital bandages adorned the top of her head. _Was she… injured?_ Silly Vantas, you aren't asking the right question. _Why… is she here?_ That's better.

Passing by the room, he snapped his head forward and tightened his grips on the armrests of the chair. The nurse leaned down slightly to ask what was the matter but Karkat dismissed it as a chill and gulped silently. What really made Karkat freeze in terror, was _knowing_ that the monster was here. In the hospital. _With him._

And what _it_ would do, was a mystery.

* * *

If you didn't say "wHat eveN" or at least something close to it, at some point in this chapter, you're a liar.

You should review.


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